


l.a. (thank you, l.a.)

by pieii



Series: and california never felt like home to me (until i had you on the open road) [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: AND IT'S CUTE, Everyone ships them, Fluff, M/M, No Angst, Pining Jackson, SO MUCH FLUFF, and jackson ships jjp, are those things, bambam drunk is the funniest thing ever, boys in luv, california au???, esp not after that last fic, idk - Freeform, im hilarious bye, l.a. au??????, like i want a relationship like yugbam in this fic, lol, no not today, ok markson are cute, pretty sure mark does too, they are now i guess, this is jsut pure, this is really gay, vine references, whipped got7 tbh, whipped jackson, whipped jinyoung too, whipped yugyeom, why isnt that a tag, yugbam are honestly meant to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieii/pseuds/pieii
Summary: California's a dream, California'shisdream.It's always been his dream. So when he and his four best friends board an eleven-hour flight to LAX, Jackson finds everything he'd ever imagined would be there. At least, based off of all the movies, all of the books and pictures and songs and aesthetic YouTube travel vlogs.And maybe ... maybe he finds love, too.





	l.a. (thank you, l.a.)

**Author's Note:**

> hello
> 
> welcome/welcome back  
> this came partially from my trip to cali last summer but i went through all my pics and videos and was in a markson mood so this thing happened lol  
> this is the first in a series of three, idk when the next one's coming out but hopefully soon
> 
> watch the vid to taeyeon's starlight ft dean because both the song and the vid are perfect for this fic (and perfect in general i love taeyeon with my entire heart)  
> a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2EJG-r4L00IuqpevRJRKpXIhGVdZHYCb) for the soul
> 
> ok thats all ok ok ok bye muah

The sky in California is a blue you wouldn't believe.

  
That's what Jaebum's sister said, anyway. She also said that there's an IHOP on every block. Jackson thinks his friends are a lot more intrigued by the latter ("What's an IHOP, noona?"), but Jackson's favorite color has always been blue, and well. He's a bit of a romantic. He's seen the countless American dramas, with the warm breeze flowing through the palm trees and the open top of your girlfriend's convertible, and the picnics on hills high enough to see the Hollywood sign. He's played around on Google Earth, and California sort of seems like a dream.

  
And, inexplicably, it becomes his dream.

He brings up his dream after they've all graduated. It's a joke at first, an offhanded suggestion slipped in between "Let's become a travelling stripper group—like a circus, y'know? But with strippers," and "Yugyeom goes on Hit The Stage and gets rich, buys us a penthouse, and we live comfortably."

  
He didn't expect his dream to become a reality, but two weeks later he and his four best friends are piled on a plane at midnight practicing their English and sipping apple juice, pretending it's wine.

  
Jackson's not really paying attention, being fluent in English and all. Instead, he's scrolling through tumblr, looking at blog posts about California. It's pretty enough that it makes his heart ache slightly, with want, and then a rush of excitement, knowing that he'll be there in eleven hours.

  
"Whatcha doin'?" Youngjae asks, leaning over in his seat to look at Jackson's phone screen.

  
"Looking at some pictures," Jackson replies, in English, smirking internally but smiling innocently at his friend. Youngjae rolls his eyes and turns back to Jinyoung, carrying on whatever conversation they had been having.

  
Jackson digs through his bag for his earbuds. He found a California playlist a while back, and he's been waiting to listen to it.

  
Now he slips his earbuds into his ears and effectively drowns out the dull hum surrounding him, closing his eyes and dreaming of what the West Coast will have in store for him.

  
Jackson's always prided himself on being able to make light of any situation, but he has a wonderful feeling brewing in his chest that this situation will make light of itself. It is a dream, after all. And dreams—he's always believed in dreams.

  
He doesn't fall asleep, he doesn’t think he'd be able to fall asleep, not with love just around the corner, but he does zone out, thinking of the beach and the sand and the convertibles and all the people with LANY blasting on his headphones. And though he hasn't stretched at all and he's pretty sure his left foot is asleep, he thinks the brink of a dream is the best place to be.

  
Yugyeom ends up being the one to shake Jackson out of his daze.

  
"Hyung," he says, and he's tugging on the hem of Jackson's shirt, "look out the window. We're almost there."

  
And Jackson obeys, neck stiff but not deterred in the slightest, and feels a bit of his breath leave his chest, because California in the not-quite morning is indescribable from up above. He aches to take a picture, but he knows it couldn't ever capture everything how he wants and besides, he doesn’t wanna look away, not even for a second.

  
Jackson has a feeling he'll fall in love with California.  
  
And they're all subdued slightly on the way out. It was a long flight, of course they are, but their energy perpetuates itself with the hustle and bustle of LAX, which is packed even at this hour, and only becomes more concentrated when Jaebum suggests they find something to eat. Jackson's uncharacteristically quiet as he takes it all in, and the moment they step outside he breathes in the fresh, fresh air and looks up at the sky.

  
Jaebum's sister was right, he thinks, letting the breeze brush against his face.  
  
They find an IHOP quickly enough (Jaebum's sister was right about that, too) and crowd in immediately, the five of them in a booth meant for four.

  
Jackson, squeezed against the window, looks out at California and thinks 'I'm here.' He's not sure if it's to himself or to L.A.

  
He orders blackberry pancakes and a hot chocolate and when he's still not full he steals some of Yugyeom's hash browns and piles them on his coffee saucer.

  
  
After eating much more than they should've, they crowd into the apartment they'd bought the day after they'd decided on coming to America.

  
It's empty, and with five people it could quickly become cramped, and it smells like paint but it's easily the best home Jackson has ever seen.

  
He has a feeling he'll fall in love with this house, too.

  
They plan to go shopping for furniture later, a store called IKEA that Jinyoung found out about online, but for now they split ways, Jinyoung and Jaebum to walk through the city and take pictures, Yugyeom and Youngjae to go thrift shopping.

  
"Are you sure you're okay with being by yourself?" Jinyoung asks.

  
Jackson resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead grins. "Yeah, mom. Don't worry about me. I'm a grown-up now."

  
Jinyoung smacks him on the arm. Jackson pretends it hurts.

  
  
When the empty apartment starts actually feeling empty and the sun starts rising for real, Jackson locks the door to the apartment before walking down to the beach.

  
It's not what he imagined his first stop would be, but something about the beach seems to pull at him. And, really, who is Jackson to say no to the beach just after sunrise?

  
Despite it being L.A. and never having a quiet moment, it's pretty peaceful. It's nearing six in the morning, and the last of the partying teenagers are making their sobering-up-with-the-sun ways back to their apartments, and the sun has not yet fully risen over the buildings, but the wind blows through Jackson's hair and he thinks he's glad he made that joke. (This is way better than becoming a stripper.)

  
He finds a spot alone, and he's not in his swimsuit or anything but he carries his socks and shoes in his left hand as he walks through the water. It's May, and it's hardly cold, but the water still feels unexpectedly refreshing lapping against his feet.

  
He breathes in the salty sea air, and it's so lovely against his skin.

  
Jackson walks north (at least, what he thinks is north), with the ocean cascading down onto the sand to his left. It's with him as he walks, offering a duet of background music with the birds. His feet are wet and the sand sticks to them as he walks out into the dry sand and he briefly thinks he should've brought something to dry them off with before shrugging it off.

  
When the restaurants lining the blocks to his right start fading into houses Jackson gravitates towards them, feet eventually finding their way to the wooden walkway. It's somewhat similar to the beach, being so covered in sand, but it reminds him of the boardwalk back home.

 

Except, he reminds himself, it couldn't be more different, because now there is pink streaking the blue of the sky and now Jackson is walking next to a seemingly never-ending row of palm trees and now his shoulders feel lighter than they had in a long time. He's beginning to get sleepy, the lethargy of such a long plane ride and feeling so full earlier taking their toll on him.

  
But he can't even bring himself to mind, not when he looks out at the ocean and knows how far he is from home. The homesickness will set in soon, he's sure of it, but for now he's content with the distance.

  
Jackson walks past the houses, the two-story houses with wide windows and green plants. There's almost nothing all of them share; they're so different it seems they'd never fit together but something about it fits, it works, with the haphazardly, messily perfect vibe the whole city seems to possess.

  
Something in Jackson's peripheral vision catches his eye and he looks up to be greeted by a head of strikingly red hair moving in the yard of a house maybe a hundred feet ahead.

  
Maybe it's how hazy his mind feels, maybe it's the rhythmic crashing of the waves lulling him to sleep on his feet, maybe it's the strange feeling of falling in love with California, but he's less than two percent in control of his body when it sets off, in the person's precise direction.

  
Jackson doesn't mind too much. He's social enough that even half dead he can keep a conversation lively and interesting.

  
The person's features become more prominent as Jackson grows closer. It's a boy, by the looks of him. Around Jackson’s own age if he had to guess. Tan skin, narrow shoulders, loose teal sweatshirt with rips near the shoulders.

  
Closer, closer. The boy's humming a song Jackson heard earlier. He's walking around his garden, watering plants.

  
His house is smooth white walls and pale wood and huge, open windows. Jackson is willing to bet his house always smells like the beach.

  
He wonders what it's like, having such a ... California home. Being so surrounded by the summer. Then he wonders if he'll ever get to experience it. He hopes so.  
Jackson's only a couple feet away now, and all of a sudden the boy turns around and Jackson doesn't understand why his heart is pounding so hard, he's just walking. And the boy's just ... a boy.

  
A boy with soft features and delicate fingers and pink lips that slightly turn up at the edges as he smiles. Jackson can't help the warmth that bubbles up from his chest in response, and, escaping his notice, his feet stop moving, in order to bask in this strange breathlessness between them.

 

Because they're maybe a yard apart, and Jackson doesn't know if he's ever seen someone so pretty.

  
The boy's hair falls over his forehead softly, and it's being ruffled slightly by the wind, and his eyes are a dark brown that shines in the still-weak sunlight and his sweater is loose enough that Jackson can kind of see his collarbones.

  
He's enchanted, to put it simply, and he sees the boy's lips part, just a little, and wonders if the boy is the same.

  
By the feeling in his chest that kind of burns with the intensity of the boy's gaze, it doesn't seem too unrealistic.

  
Some sort of magnetic force keeps him there, drinking in this feeling, reveling in it, because he doesn’t know when the moment will shatter. The sky behind the boy and his house is being steadily stained the dreamlike blue Jackson's only ever heard about in stories, but it's not quite as compelling as Jackson thought it'd be. Or maybe it's just not as compelling as this boy.

  
"Mark!" comes a voice from behind the boy, and Jackson hears something in his neck crack as his head snaps up to find the source, which turns out to be a thin boy with silver hair that gleams in the light hanging precariously far out of the second-story window. "Stop staring, you look whipped as hell! I made waffles."

  
And the boy—Mark—offers an apologetic smile to Jackson, allowing Jackson a brief glimpse of his flushed-red cheeks before he turns away. Jackson turns and resumes walking down the boardwalk, not without wondering what had just happened.

  
He turns back, just to confirm that wasn't something he daydreamed up, and sees Mark already looking at him.  
Jackson quickly spins back around and continues on his way, heart beating in his chest. He pretends he doesn't trip on virtually nothing, and also pretends not to smile like an idiot at the faint sound of laughter carried by the breeze.

  
They still have no furniture in the apartment, so they order takeout and sit on the hardwood floor of what Jinyoung has declared will be their living room.

  
"How was everyone's day?" Youngjae asks, yawning. He makes Jinyoung yawn, which makes everyone yawn.

  
"Goddammit, Jinyoung-hyung," Yugyeom huffs. Jinyoung stares at him, the blank expression on his face mildly threatening.

  
"It was nice," Jackson says loudly, effectively drawing Jinyoung from his plot to murder the youngest and grinning brightly. "I went on a walk down the beach."

  
He leaves it at that, letting Jaebum take over and start talking about the photos he and Jinyoung took together. He doesn't quite know why; normally he shares everything with his friends.

  
But something about that moment makes Jackson want to keep to himself, at least for now. At least until he knows what it was. If he tried to explain it, he'd flounder about in all the languages he knew, not being able to place what he felt into words.

  
Jackson realizes he had been staring at a crack in the floorboard underneath him for a while and snaps his head up, attempting to look attentive. Judging by the concerned looks being thrown his way, his zoning out hadn't gone unnoticed.

  
"Jackson-ah?" Jaebum asks, leaning forward a little. "You okay? You’re kinda quiet today."

  
"Um, yeah," Jackson coughs grinning it off. "Just tired, I guess. Jet lag's a bitch."

  
Sympathetic nods come, and the conversation continues.

  
Jackson zones out, mind unable to focus on much else other than red hair and brown eyes.

  
"Damn, hyung," Yugyeom says, high voice interrupting Jackson's thoughts, prodding Jackson's thigh with his foot. "You look hella whipped."

  
Jackson hears Youngjae laugh from across the room, and it tugs the corners of his mouth into a smile, the others following suit.

Youngjae's laughter is ringing and infectious and they're all a little too tired and overdosing on new now, and within a few moments they're all laughing, loud and breathless and only stopping when it hurts.

  
Jackson pretends not to see Jinyoung's curious look as he shifts his position on the floor into criss-cross applesauce, and yawns.

  
  
When Jackson falls asleep that night, he dreams of cherry-red hair and the smell of beaches.

 

Maybe he can find a home here, after all.

 

  
  
Routine comes quickly to the five of them.  
Jackson, by a streak of luck he isn't sure how he obtained, finds a fencing studio not far from the apartment. He applies for an instructor job instantly, and as he hands in his resume he watches as the girl at the front desk's eyes widen as she takes in all his qualifications.

  
He feels a spark of pride inside, but tries not to smile too wide. He's already in a good mood from earlier this morning, when he walked down the beach again. Mark was there, watering his plants, and he smiled at Jackson as he walked by.

  
The blue sky seemed to grow even brighter after that, and Jackson carries the moment inside his chest like the pretty shell he found washed up on the sand and slipped into his pocket.

  
  
That evening, Jackson drags his friends out onto the beach, where the sun is making its final appearance of the day. He has his hoodie spread out on the sand and is sitting back on it, heels of his hands dug into the sand behind him and feet swaying lazily. He feels the pink sunlight wash over his face and looks to his left, where Jaebum and Youngjae are sitting. They, too, look like this is what they've been waiting for for a long time. Jackson smiles unconsciously at the sight, at the knowledge that they were here, all five of them. Here to stay.

  
"I like it here," Yugyeom says. Jackson looks to the right, and everyone's nodding in agreement. When their maknae is happy, everyone is happy, and Jackson grins as he looks directly into the sun, and then immediately regrets it.

  
There's a spot in the middle of his field of vision when he looks to the specific direction of anywhere-but-the-sun. His eyes stay fixed there, blinking furiously to clear his eyes.

  
And when his vision finally clears, he wonders if he's still seeing things.

  
About a hundred feet from them, standing ankle deep in the water with the legs of his pants rolled up, and with his arm slung around a boy of the same stature, is a boy with hair nearly blending into the sunset.

  
The colors, the beautiful, beautiful mess of colors, reflect off the water and outline the two boys in an ethereal, dreamlike sort of way, like they're on the cover of a romance novel.

  
Now aware of them, Jackson picks up on the faint sound of sloshing water and laughter, and "BamBam!"

  
Jackson smiles again, despite himself, and briefly registers how good it feels to be smiling so easily, when he feels a shoulder bump his and Youngjae's voice cut through the warm, breezy silence.

  
"Who's that?"

  
Jackson turns, and there he is, laying innocently in Jaebum's lap.

  
"Who's what?" Jackson asks.

  
"Those boys you're staring at," Youngjae says, gesturing in the direction of said boys with his chin.

  
Jackson shrugs. "I don't know." He doesn't know, but he'd be willing to bet his gold medal from nationals last year that it was Mark and his roommate? Friend? "I just accidentally looked into the sun and needed to look at the not-sun." It's not a lie, but it's not quite the truth. He doesn't want to delve into the strange feeling that hums through his body whenever he thinks about Mark; afraid, possibly, that in trying to understand it the magic would disappear.

He looks away, feeling like he’s been burned. He doesn’t even know Mark, and it’s ridiculous for him to experience this, this _want_ that feels like it’s slowly crawling through his veins and making a home of his body.

There’s a feeling brewing in his chest, heavy and honey-like and the deep, bright red he’s become familiar with.

Jaebum and Jinyoung start singing under their breaths, a song Jackson would recognize if he bothered to pay attention to the words. He lets his heart beat in his chest, lets the sound of his friends’ voices and of the waves crashing over each other wash over him, lets the sand sift through his fingers and get itself into every possibly crease of his hoodie. Whatever. He’d wash it later. He wouldn’t change a thing about the moment, even if it did mean having sand everywhere.

He allows himself one last glance in the direction of Mark and his friend, outlined in red and gold and pink and orange and positively _glowing_ , before losing himself in the presence of his friends, all painted over with the sunset and laughing over a joke that doesn’t even make sense because they’re just happy. Jackson can’t keep the beam from overtaking his face, as he takes in that they’re in L.A., they’re all in L.A. and they’re falling in love with this freedom and this life and these blue skies and Jackson doesn’t think he could be happier.

He’s always fallen in love too easily, but maybe California will be good for him.

 

There are three bedrooms in their apartment, and Jackson’s is the smallest. (Justly so, as he’s the only one who doesn’t have to share.)

But it’s facing the east, and he leaves the curtains open when he sleeps so he can wake up with the sun and see Mark in the morning. The room itself is, admittedly, a bit cramped, with his bed taking up all of the wall with the window and his dresser against the opposite wall. It’s pretty empty and the white paint is chipping where the walls meet the ceiling and the ceiling fan only has two settings (too slow to make any difference and too fast to not feel like it’s going to fly off and kill you) but he sees opportunities to hang up posters and pictures. And he can just open up the window if he needs some air.

Jackson walks past a flower shop and there’s a fern plant in the display window. He thinks it’d look great in the empty corner of his bedroom, because it needs a bit of color. Not because Mark has ferns in his backyard, or because yesterday he was wearing a hoodie that slipped over his palms and was dotted with little ferns. It has nothing to do with that. At all.

He thinks the fern looks wonderful in his bedroom, and there’s a new picture from Jaebum’s instant camera hanging on his wall of the sunset.

 

Jackson treats Yugyeom and Youngjae to lunch on Saturdays.

“They say it’s ‘brunch,’ hyung,” Youngjae says the first time they do it, at a small café on the beach. (It is, by complete coincidence, only about two blocks from Mark’s apartment.) He’s looking at Jackson with his eyebrows raised and hair brushed over his forehead. He’s in a yellow sweater that hangs off his frame slightly, and Jackson smiles when he sees it. He can imagine Mark wearing something similar. “What’s brunch?”

“It's this weird American thing where they combine breakfast and lunch on the weekends.”

Yugyeom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would they do that?”

“I have no idea,” Jackson says, shrugging as he switches over to English. “A table for three, please.”

The host nods in acknowledgement, and leads them to a table near the back of the place by the window. The 11:29 sun is lighting the leaves of the plants hanging above them up into a beautiful glowing green that reminds Jackson of matcha tea. Jackson thanks the host before settling into the seat next to the window, opposite Yugyeom and with Youngjae beside him.

Jackson looks down at the table. It’s made of dark wood, and smooth on the top. He looks back up just to see Yugyeom craning his neck slightly, staring at something Jackson can’t see.

Youngjae beats him to it. “What’re you looking at?”

Yugyeom turns around, so fast his too-long hair flops around on his forehead, and tries to feign innocence. “What?”

Youngjae only has to raise an eyebrow and Yugyeom gives in, mumbling through the blush on his cheeks.

“I was looking at … that guy with red hair that just came in. It’s such a bright color.”

Both Jackson and Youngjae know that it’s a blatant lie—Yugyeom’s always been an open book—but before Jackson can call him out he registers what his friend had actually said and whips around in the direction of the door, and sure enough. There he is. There’s no mistaking that hair. Or that smile. Or those eyes, crinkling as he walks up to a boy with silver hair, and oh no.

Jackson ducks his head and prays the others are too fixated on Mark to notice. Thankfully, his savior comes in the form of their waiter, arriving smoothly and introducing himself just as Youngjae opens his mouth, probably to question the sudden flush on Jackson’s cheeks.

“Hi! My name is BamBam, and I’m your server for today.” As he hears this, Jackson looks up and there he is. In all his tan-skinned, long-legged glory. He’s wearing a striped button-up that Jackson thinks would look hideous on anyone else, but somehow hanging loose and partially tucked into a pair of skinny jeans it’s the most fashionable outfit Jackson’s seen in real life. He runs his hand through his hair, making it catch the light prettily, and smiles. “Can I start you off with somethin’ to drink?”

He thinks BamBam recognizes him, if his expression as he glances expectantly at Jackson is anything to go by, but they’ve never spoken a word to each other. (Technically, he’s never spoken a word to Mark, either, but that’s different.) So he offers a friendly smile and orders a Shirley Temple.

BamBam’s dangly earrings shake as he nods his head, then turns to Youngjae, who politely, in accented English, asks for an iced Americano. When BamBam faces Yugyeom, smiling pleasantly, he pauses for a moment, and Jackson can't read the look on his face. But he can read the one on Yugyeom's, and he has to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Yugyeom looks stricken, as if he's had to face the second sun and was not at all prepared for it. Jackson recognizes the flush spreading up his neck. “Um, may I please have a green tea, please?”

Jackson pinches his own thigh to refrain from cooing, because seeing their cool and sassy maknae so flustered is a sure privilege. It's been so long since all of them met, he's forgotten how shy Yugyeom is away from his close friends.

Youngjae seems to share Jackson's opinion on the topic, though in a less subtle manner. He ‘aw’s out loud and reaches across the table to squish Yugyeom's pink-dusted cheeks. BamBam only grins at them, then skips off with an “I'll be right back with those, then!”

“Hyung!” Yugyeom whines the minute BamBam is out of earshot. “Don't embarrass me.”

Youngjae only giggles, flapping his hands around so enthusiastically Jackson’s scared of being hit.

“Didn't you think he was cute?”

Yugyeom brought his hands up to his face and tried to hide from the teasing, excited faces of his hyungs. Jackson prodded Yugyeom’s calf with his toe and grinned. “Come on, we want to know! We won't tease you, I promise.”

“That's a lie,” Yugyeom mumbles through his fingers, and even muffled Jackson can hear his smile.

“Okay, maybe it is. But you should still tell us!”

“Yeah, Yug,” Youngjae joins in, and then he's reaching across the table again to remove Yugyeom's hands from his face.  He’s pouting now, and Jackson can see Yugyeom’s resolve physically crumbling.

“Okay, yeah,” he admits bashfully. “He’s really cute.”

Youngjae and Jackson high five.

“But,” Yugyeom adds, protesting, “he probably thinks I’m an idiot, I said “please” twice in one sentence. Besides, I don’t even know him. ”

 _When has that ever stopped anyone?_ Jackson thinks, envisioning a head of red hair and a smile brighter than the sunrise. And then he shakes his head, as if he could physically remove the thoughts from his head. He doesn’t have a crush on Mark.

There’s a hand hitting his arm. Jackson glances up at Youngjae, who’s looking at him confusedly. “You good?”

Jackson realizes they probably saw him shake his head for no reason. He grins, wide and bright, and nods. “Yeah, just thinking about how cute you’d be as a couple.”

Yugyeom glares. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this!”

Jackson just shrugs, the response forming cut off by BamBam coming back to their table, dazzling smile still in place. Jackson’s Shirley Temple has a Maraschino cherry and a yellow umbrella in it.

Just to give him a break, he pretends not to notice how flushed Yugyeom’s face gets when BamBam winks at him. Not at all because he sees Mark out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the doorframe, talking to a waitress. Oh God. Does he work here? Jackson can’t decide if that’d be a good or bad thing.

There’s a click from beside him, and Jackson turns to find Youngjae leaning far, far back in his seat, nearly falling off, in order to get a picture with both Jackson and Yugyeom in the frame.

Then both Jackson’s and Yugyeom’s phones vibrate in the table.

“You sent it to the groupchat?” Yugyeom asks disbelievingly.

“Of course,” Youngjae replies, unphased. “We can’t leave Jinyoung-hyung and Jaebum-hyung out of this exciting narrative.”

“Why was I in the picture?” Jackson asks. He knows why.

“Because for some reason or another, you were blushing, too. And looking over there.” Youngjae gestures to the area behind him in a sweeping motion over his head.

Jackson’s not too worried about Youngjae and Yugyeom knowing about Mark; the most they’ll be is a little annoying. (Okay, a lot annoying, but nothing Jackson hasn’t had to handle before.) But Jinyoung’s always had this uncanny ability to read Jackson, and confrontation would be a bit embarrassing, seeing as Jackson would have to refute his suspicions, because he barely knows Mark. Mark doesn’t even know his name, goddamnit.

Oh well. It’ll happen no matter how much he worries about it, or wishes it won’t. So he decides to just not think about it and enjoy his brunch with his annoying but, somehow, lovable dongsaengs. He picks the umbrella out of his drink, dries the wooden part with his napkin, and sticks it behind Youngjae’s ear.

Youngjae exaggeratedly swoons, falling back against Jackson’s shoulder. “Oh my! Stop, stop it, before you make me fall in love!”

Jackson just laughs, and Youngjae laughs, and Yugyeom laughs, and Jackson likes how light his shoulders feel.

 

Jackson likes the nights in California, almost as much as he likes the mornings.

He likes right after the sun sets, when the sky is still light and the air is still warm and it feels timelessly perfect.

He likes the deep night, when the streetlamps are on and glowing and there’s a cool breeze making the fronds of the palm trees sway and the neon signs light up the dark.

He likes when the five of them lock the apartment door behind them and can walk through the streets with no one to judge them for being one group in a hundred. He likes when he jumps on Yugyeom’s back and Yugyeom carries him around, poking fun at his height but Jackson can’t hear because there’s content thrumming through his ears. He likes when Youngjae starts singing loudly as their footsteps would echo on the pavement if there wasn’t so much _noise_ and people passing by would think he’s drunk but really he’s just happy. He likes when Jinyoung and Jaebum share that look, one of simultaneous exasperation and fondness, before allowing their grins to show.

He’s happy, and his friends are happy, and he thinks California is good for them.

 

It’s one of these nights, where the sun has set and Youngjae is sprawled out on the sand, his head in Jaebum’s lap and feet in Jinyoung’s, and Yugyeom’s sipping on a milkshake and Jackson has a Ziploc bag of cashews and a bottle of organic green tea he picked up from the convenience store and there’s someone down the beach with a bluetooth speaker blasting some American hip-hip music none of them have heard before. It’s refreshing.

“Anyone wanna go out tonight?” Jaebum asks. There are murmurs of assent from everyone. “I was looking around earlier and there was a bar that seemed cool.”

No one speaks. Jaebum sighs loudly. “Well thanks for your opinions on the situation, guys, really appreciate it.”

“No problem!” Youngjae sings flashing Jaebum a winning smile.

Jackson just grins to himself. He loves his friends.

“Well, since no one’s objecting, we’re all good.”

Jackson thinks about where they were going.

He wonders if Mark has ever been there.

He wonders if Mark remembers their encounters as vividly as Jackson does.

He wonders if Mark thinks of him as much as he thinks of Mark.

Maybe, maybe.

 

Jackson's playing with the rips in his skinny jeans as he spins around on his bar stool, the strap of his backpack wrapped around his foot so he doesn’t forget it’s there.

Jaebum was right, it is a cool place, all dim lights and brick walls and clean-cut wooden tables. There are neon signs up on the wall behind the bar, and they're lighting up Jackson’s drink pretty colors.

There’s live music playing, a boy with a guitar up on the makeshift stage, and the conversation flows around them like drinks from the taps.

He’s heatedly arguing with Jinyoung about whether waffle or shoestring fries are better as he taps his fingers on the polished wood in front of him to the tune of whatever ballad the singer has decided on now. It’s a bit mellow for a Saturday night, but then again it fits surprisingly well. He’s not in the mood to get drunk off his ass tonight. He’s had the recommended amount of alcohol for people his age and weight, according to the chart he found online. There’s a pleasant warmth humming through him and he’s grinning even as Jinyoung lectures him about why he should not support Chick Fil-A no matter how good their fries are and “The CEO is against gay marriage, you know that! Anything that’ll prevent us from getting married here should be a no-no.”

At that, Jackson turns to look at Jinyoung. “I didn't know you were gay,” he muses.

Jinyoung snorts, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with Jaebum, idiot.”

Jackson’s mouth falls open in shock. Jinyoung must have had more to drink than he’d thought; in the seven years of knowing each other Jinyoung had never once told Jackson about any crushes.

“Oh my God, really?” Jackson breathes, leaning closer to Jinyoung. Jinyoung is either tipsy or feeling open; either way, there's no way Jackson’s going to miss out on the opportunity. “Since when?” he can't help but ask.

“Since forever. Since I was born. Since, like,” Jinyoung gestured out in the direction of the universe, “since the day he picked me up when it was raining.”

“What happened that day?”

“Well, I went to class and it was fine, but when I stepped out it was pouring and thundering, and I started to walk home but Jaebum came, and he brought me an umbrella on his day off because he knew I hadn't, and then we stopped in a coffee shop and he got my favorite without asking what it was and he gave me his jacket when I was shivering and then … and he walked me home,” Jinyoung ends, voice soft and eyes softer. Jackson, who knows Jaebum as fun and sweet and kind of scary when Jackson doesn't clean the blender after making smoothies, doesn't find his story too hard to believe, seeing as Jaebum’s always had some sort of magic Jinyoung sense for what he needs or wants or where he is.

“That’s ages ago, though,” Jackson says quietly. Jinyoung laughs bitterly, knocking back the rest of whatever was in his glass. Jackson decides to subtly move the empty glass away, lest Jinyoung decide drinking his feelings away is a good idea. He remembers that day, where Jinyoung came home a little damp but with a new jacket around his shoulders and a new flush high on his cheeks. He hadn't asked about it. Now he's kind of wishing he had, although if this is what it takes to get Jinyoung to admit his feelings he's not sure anything would have come out of asking.

“Yeah. It is. Honestly, I can't believe no one noticed. It’s not like I’m subtle about it,” Jinyoung says, rolling his eyes. “You're all too focused on your own love lives, I guess.”

 _I guess he's never told me about his crushes because there's only ever been one,_ Jackson thinks, slightly giddy before Jinyoung’s words sink in.

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘our own love lives’? Yugyeom’s the only one with a budding California romance here.”

Jinyoung doesn't believe him. Jackson wouldn't believe himself, honestly. He sighs at Jinyoung’s raised eyebrow.

“I'm not blind, you know,” Jinyoung says conversationally, and Jackson braces himself. “I've seen the way you've been acting lately, all zoned-out and starry-eyed.” The words themselves are slightly mocking, but Jinyoung doesn't say them so. He says them kindly, like he's not making fun of Jackson for his infatuation. Jackson supposes Jinyoung himself has been there— _is_ there, in fact.

“Who is it?” Jinyoung asks, and it's said in a small voice but Jackson hears it as if he had shouted it into the din.

Jackson slides a hand down his face and rests his chin in his palm. “I don't even know. It’s, ah, it's stupid, but it's some guy I saw on the first day here when I walked on the beach. He was just … just in his yard, watering some plants, and I don't know, Jinyoung, I just wanna know him. I've seen him every day, every morning, I should say, since that first one. He doesn't even know my name, and I don't really know him, but I really really want to. He’s pretty, too. His smile is really bright, and his hair is really red and his shoulders are really narrow, and—"

Jackson’s cut off by Jinyoung tapping his shoulder, and he's just about to scold him for interrupting when Jinyoung nods at something behind him. “Like his?”

Jackson turns around, as inconspicuously as he can, and sees a flash of red hair and tan skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs, not even sure if Jinyoung can hear or not. “Yeah, just like his.” And then the person turns around and Jackson realizes that the reason the person’s hair looks exactly like Mark’s is because the person is Mark. He quickly turns back around.

Jinyoung catches on immediately. “Is that him?” he asks, smiling slightly, but attempting to keep it under control.

“No.” Jackson chances another glance behind him to confirm that yes, the beautiful man leaning on the same bar as Jackson himself merely yards away is that same beautiful man that smiles at him every morning. (And during the day. And at night. Whenever he blinks.) “That’d be ridiculous.”

That glance confirms it all, as well as that the person sitting next to Mark is his friend BamBam, whose silver hair is shining underneath the lights of the bar. Jackson breathes out a grin and elbows Jinyoung in the side.

“There! The guy with the silver hair, he was our server at brunch the other day. I think Yugyeom’s mouth fell open in awe when he smiled.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung says thoughtfully, stroking an imaginary beard. “I knew he met _someone_ , he was acting just like you.” Jackson smacked his shoulder playfully.

Jinyoung just snickered, shoulders shaking, a loose smile slung across his face.

“He's looking at you,” Jinyoung says gleefully, nudging Jackson. Jackson rolls his and pretends he's not flushing at the thought.

“No he’s not,” Jackson whines in response, flapping his hands. “He doesn't even know who I am.”

Jinyoung just gives him a look that clearly reads ‘If you say so.’

Jinyoung is proven right when, a couple moments later, there’s a tap on his shoulder and a presence next to him at the bar. Jackson turns his head to the left.

And there he is. Jackson’s disoriented by how different he looks in a bar than in the early morning underneath the sun. His hair looks like red wine in the dark, and his smile is polite but still the prettiest thing Jackson’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Mark offers shyly. “I'm Mark.” Jackson sees Jinyoung smirk out of the corner of his eye and slide off his stool, heading towards where, presumably, Jaebum was.

Jackson swallows the ‘I know’ budding in his throat and grins back easily, extending a hand. “Jackson.”

Mark’s hand is soft in Jackson’s, and something in his eyes is sparkling underneath the dim lights of the bar and there’s that trickle of familiarity. Mark recognizes him. The thought makes something warm bloom in Jackson’s chest, at that he’s not the only one who thinks there’s something here, something between them. It might be inexplicable, but he can certainly feel it. And, apparently, so can Mark.

Mark leans forward, and orders a lemonade. At Jackson’s questioning look, he ducks his head. “BamBam, my friend over there,” he nods to his left, “is gonna need someone sober to bring him home. He’s a very … vibrant character. Especially when drunk. Last time we went out, he walked around the beach for an hour, screaming _Bring Me To Life_ at the top of his lungs and trying to feed seagulls bits of rice out of his palms.”

“Bet that was a fun hangover.”

“Oh, you bet,” Mark laughs. “He’s a handful on a normal day, that plus alcohol is a hangover in itself. I love him to death, though,” he says smiling affectionately.

“Yeah, I feel that,” Jackson sighs. He twists around to point at the table of his friends. Youngjae’s laughing as a tipsy Jinyoung tries to throw French fries into Yugyeom’s open mouth. He never gets close, and it looks an awful lot like he’s just throwing them at him. “Those idiots are my best friends.”

“They look like a real riot,” Mark remarks amusedly. Jackson nods in agreement.

“Definitely. You’d like them. It's impossible not to, I think, once you get to know them.”

“Really,” Mark says thoughtfully. “Anyone you speak of so highly must be wonderful,” he grins, and it doesn't sound sarcastic. Just playful.

“I can introduce you, if you want. We all just moved here together.”

“That's cool! Where did you move from?”

“South Korea. We all became friends in college.”

“Nice,” Mark nods. “I haven't really kept up with my college friends. BamBam is the only person I talk to regularly, but he doesn't count. We’ve known each other since forever.”

“Rude,” comes a mumble from somewhere, and before either of them knows it Mark has a lapful of BamBam, giggling at virtually nothing. “I do count! See, I’m doin’ it … right now,” he says, staring at his fingers and putting one up at a time. “One, two, … three, four,” with five fingers up. He laughs again, loud and infectious, and Mark makes a face at Jackson that reads ‘You see what I have to deal with?’

“Ooh, Mark, who’s this?” BamBam asks, stumbling over the words, following Mark’s gaze and pitching forward to squish Jackson’s cheeks. “He’s cute, this ya boyfriend?”

“Bam—” Mark starts, but BamBam talks over him, running his fingers over Jackson’s eyebrows.

“You picked nice, he has such pretty eyebrows! Oh my God, where did you get them done?” he gapes. “Mark, can we go with him next time?” He turns to Jackson. “Can we go with you next time? I've tried to do my own but I couldn't stop laughing, and I asked Mark but he's too nice,” BamBam pouts.

“I actually don't—" Jackson starts, but he’s mowed back over.

“I wish I had a boyfriend with nice eyebrows,” BamBam whines, tugging at the hem of Jackson’s shirt like a petulant child. “But alas,” he says, laying his palm on his forehead and leaning back so far Mark has to catch him as he falls, “only a handful of such boys exist. And none of them ever like cats.”

Mark catches Jackson’s questioning gaze and patiently explains. “We have a cat.”

“Her name’s Delilah Ann,” BamBam coos, laying his head on Jackson’s shoulder. “And she’s a storm gray Turkish Van munchkin mix and she's really an asshole but she's cute so I forgive her. Just like … just like Mark.” He drags out Mark’s name and snickers into Jackson’s neck.

Mark raises his eyebrow. “Excuse me.”

“Wow, Mark,” Jackson says, placing an offended hand on his chest. “Right as I was beginning to like you. You’re exposed.”

BamBam just giggles and sways in place. “He never plucks my eyebrows,” he turns to Mark, “but you’re cute so I love you anyway.” He plants a kiss on the tip of Mark’s nose, with an exaggerated “Muah,” and when he sees Mark still trying his best to be unamused he wraps his arms around Mark’s torso, resting his chin on top of Mark's hair and patting his shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t be bitter, it's just how you are. Seasons change, but people don't, y'know. ‘S just … the way the cake crumbles.”

“Cookie,” Mark offers, and BamBam presses a finger to his lips, making a soothing noise.

“Shh, shh. Cake, Mark. Cake. Accept it.”

“But—” Mark tries to protest.

“Accept the cake, Markie.” BamBam whispers conspiratorially. He then gasps as if someone else had said that, and perks up, whipping around to face Jackson. “Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God. Do you like red velvet?”

“The cake, or the band?” Jackson jokes.

“There’s a band called Red Velvet? Do they sing about cake?” BamBam asks enthusiastically, his eyes lit up. An idea forms in Jackson’s mind, and before he knows it he’s saying absentmindedly that he’ll be right back, then marching over to their table and forcefully grabbing an arm.

“Yugyeom here actually knows a ton about Red Velvet,” Jackson boasts in lieu of Yugyeom speaking. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to teach you.”

Yugyeom splutters, face tinged red even in the semi-darkness as he recognizes the head of silver hair and the person underneath. BamBam practically jumps on him.

“Oh my God,” they hear him whisper. He slides a hand up Yugyeom’s forehead and pushes his hair off it.

“What?” Mark asks. He sounds tired. “What now, Bammie?”

“You have such nice eyebrows,” BamBam practically whimpers.

“He likes cats, too,” Jackson suggests offhandedly, perfectly aware of the chaos it will cause.

“Marry me,” BamBam requests, placing his hands on Yugyeom’s shoulders. He’s too drunk to notice the deep red flush coming up Yugyeom’s neck, but the other two certainly aren’t. “Whoa. The world just started spinning. Mark, Mark, Mark, hold onto your drink.” He giggles again, hugging Yugyeom and burrowing into his chest. “It’s gonna fall over if the bar keeps dancing like that.”

Yugyeom just looks confused. (And flustered. Very flustered.)

“Can we go to Neptune for our honeymoon? I hear it’s very nice in July,” is the last thing they hear BamBam say before Yugyeom drags him away to get some water. Mark sighs into their newfound silence.

“The seagull-rice-Evanescence story seems a lot more believable now,” Jackson comments, and Mark laughs, full-blown and loud and forceful enough to have him bend over his legs on the stool.

“Your friend Yugyeom, he went to a café, right? And saw BamBam there?” When Jackson nods, Mark continues. “Bam’s been talking my ear off about this cute guy with black hair and the, I quote, ‘prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, I mean, Mark, he’s so gorgeous’ he saw there with you the other day.”

“I was with Yugyeom, and my friend Youngjae.” Jackson says, gesturing over to the table, where Jaebum had pulled out a deck of playing cards (from where, Jackson doesn’t know) and he, Jinyoung, and Youngjae were playing some sort of slapping-the-table game.

Jinyoung’s shoulders were loose with the alcohol he’d had, and the look he threw Jaebum was so clear, even across a semi-crowded bar, Jackson can’t believe he hadn’t ever noticed it before. Jackson’s heart twinges. Has Jinyoung really had to deal with his love for all this time? Jackson can barely handle his own … whatever it is, and it’s only been a couple weeks.

It’s only been a couple weeks, and yet when he leans back against the bar and talks quietly, laughs loudly, smiles freely with Mark it feels like he’s been here his whole life.

He really, really likes California.

He thinks the exact same thing when Mark looks over at BamBam, who’s now clumsily trying to dance to _Russian Roulette_ , with Yugyeom laughing, brilliantly bright, beside him.

He’s thinking the same thing when he slings his backpack over one shoulder and takes Mark by the wrist, to make sure not to lose him, of course, and Mark adjusts his grip so they’re holding hands, fingers intertwined. It’s probably to make sure not to lose Jackson, but a secret grin still sneaks onto Jackson’s face at the contact.

He’s thinking it when he brings Mark to the table of the people he loves most in the world and they catch on like old friends. Mark, he fits seamlessly into Jackson’s life.

He’s thinking it, still, when it’s late, or possibly early, and the breeze is still warm and it’s floating through the open windows of the bar and Youngjae goes to round up BamBam and Yugyeom so they can all get out into the night.

He thinks his friends also really, really like California. Jinyoung is still light and smiley, but he’s stumbling a little so Jaebum wraps an arm around his waist. The action seems more of a reflex than anything, Jackson notices, and the endearing ‘You idiot’ look in his eyes is nowhere near hidden as Jaebum watches Jinyoung ramble on about something Jackson can’t hear. BamBam’s still ridiculously clingy, and he’s hugging Yugyeom’s arm to his chest, trying to sing what his drunk brain can remember the lyrics to _Red Flavor_ sounded like.

Mark, _Mark_ , he’s radiant underneath the yellow streetlights, talking to Youngjae in a mellow voice. He’s calmer than Jackson’s used to, but it’s refreshing, and Youngjae looks genuinely happy to be around him.

Jackson tilts his head back, letting the gentle wind hit his face. He can’t see any more of the stars than he could back in Korea, but if he turns to his right he’ll be met with the rhythmic crashing of moonlit waves against sand.

He’s thinking he doesn’t really want this moment, this night to end when he passes a twenty-four hour diner, lit up with neon lights like the ones he’s seen in American dramas. Jackson immediately calls out to the group at large, “Who wants to get a milkshake?”

“Me!” Mark replies. “That’s my favorite diner, we go there all the time.”

“Alright, anyone else?” Jackson looks around. His eyes meet Jinyoung’s, who only smirks, and suddenly Jackson regrets everything in his life that has led to this moment. Jinyoung leans in and whispers something in Jaebum’s ear, who then raises his gaze to Jackson and gives him the exact same expression as Jinyoung had.

“Sorry, but Youngjae and I were planning to binge-watch _Chopped_ , and I should get Jinyoung home,” Jaebum says, and Jackson can almost believe he’s being genuine. Almost.

Yugyeom just laughs. “I think BamBam should just lie down, to be honest. With some water and painkillers.” He turns to Mark. “I know we just met tonight, but is it okay if he comes with us? We’ll take care of him, I promise.”

Mark nods, grimacing. “Just try not to let him into the bathtub.” He waves as the others turn back around and continue to where their apartment is. Jackson sees Jaebum gently pull Jinyoung into his side before Mark speaks.

“Guess it’s just us, then.” And before Jackson can have a chance to be awkward about it, Mark’s eyes sparkle. “C’mon.”

 

Jinyoung watches Jackson get dragged into the diner. He’s happy for his friend, really; Mark seems lovely and lively and they’re good together. He’d dwell on it more, though, if the warmth of Jaebum’s hand wasn’t soaking into his side and his thumb wasn’t absentmindedly rubbing circles into his shirt.

He’s leaning into Jaebum, more than he’d normally allow himself to, using the alcohol as an excuse. He likes feeling as if Jaebum is supporting him.

Youngjae’s skipping a little ways ahead of them, humming some song from inside his head, and in his peripheral vision Jinyoung sees Yugyeom give up completely on trying to lead BamBam in the correct direction and just pick him up bridal-style. He hears BamBam still laughing, probably over nothing, and when he turns his head to look at them fully Yugyeom’s got the softest smile Jinyoung’s ever seen on him plastered across his face, BamBam swinging his legs back and forth.

Jinyoung nudges Jaebum’s hip and leans over to happily whisper in his ear. “Look at Yugyeom.”

Jaebum does. And his lips curl up into a smile. “They’re cute.”

Jinyoung makes the mistake of looking at Jaebum then, and his hair is shining underneath the streetlights and his eyes are kind of shining too as he turns back to look at Jinyoung and their faces are close, merely inches apart, and even after all these years Jaebum still leaves him breathless.

Jaebum just pulls him closer, and doesn’t let go even when he has to search awkwardly through his pocket to get the keys to their apartment. Youngjae’s leaning against the wall, the day’s events finally taking a toll on his energy, and BamBam has his arms wrapped around Yugyeom’s neck and his body curled against Yugyeom’s chest. He’s talking in a language Jinyoung doesn’t know now, fingers tracing the patterns on Yugyeom’s shirt.

Yugyeom just makes panicked eye contact with Jinyoung. “Can you text hyung to ask Mark about this?” he mouths.

Jinyoung does, and the reply comes moments later. “He’s speaking Thai. Mark says he does it a lot, nothing to worry about.”

He can see Yugyeom’s shoulders visibly relax, and he’s endeared.

Jinyoung feels Jaebum’s gaze on his face, and wishes it doesn't set him so on edge. This was a lot easier when he could pretend his feelings didn't exist. Now that he’s said it out loud, he’s being forced to acknowledge that maybe Jaebum’s laugh makes his heart flutter, maybe his touch makes Jinyoung want to melt, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe he’s felt all this from the beginning, and he thought it would go away, or at least die down a little, but the feeling in his chest right now is the same, same sensation, same intensity, as it was after Jinyoung had changed out of his wet clothes but kept the jacket on and stared at the ceiling for hours, confused, that fateful night when he fell in love for the first time. For the only time so far, and probably for a while.

He can’t exactly say why he's chosen tonight to admit it to Jackson (and himself) that he’s in love with his best friend, but Jinyoung had had a little alcohol and Jackson was there and they were kind of in the same boat now. (Though, Jinyoung thinks, not really. Mark seems incredibly taken with Jackson, perhaps even more so than Jackson with him. Jinyoung can't bring himself to be bitter, or even jealous of Jackson. He deserves it, after all. Jinyoung just wishes the same thing could happen with Jaebum.)

So they all sit squished together on the couch underneath Youngjae’s comforter, Jinyoung having changed into his pajamas, knowing he’s probably going to fall asleep. The introduction to each competitor is playing on the screen, Jinyoung is between the other two. He closes his eyes and counts to three. Once, twice, three times, four. He’s made it this far. And it’s not like Jaebum is going anywhere—he’s right here, next to Jinyoung. Hopefully for a while.

Jinyoung opens his eyes again and relaxes into the presence of two of his best friends.

 

“You can trust Yugyeom,” Jackson says as soon as Mark slides into the booth opposite him. “He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but we all are. He’s got a heart of gold. Not to mention he’s completely whipped for BamBam.” Jackson pauses. “Don’t tell him I said all that.”

“Yeah, you guys seem like you can handle him. I’m not worried.”

“What was up with the bathtub, though?” Jackson wonders out loud. Mark just shakes his head.

“BamBam has … how do I put this? He has an aptitude for meme referencing.”

“Him and Yugyeom are meant to be, I guess,” Jackson laughs.

Mark opens his mouth to reply, but a waitress comes by their table with two menus in hand.

“Hello,” she says, tone friendly and bright. “My name is Anna, and I’ll be serving you. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just a coffee, please,” Mark says.

“Can I have a chocolate milkshake?”

“Of course,” she replies, flashing them a smile. “Be right back out with those.”

“What’s good here?” Jackson asks, flipping through the menu.

“Everything,” Mark says, then points to something on the back page. “I normally get the corned beef hash, but I’m not in the mood right now. The waffles here are also amazing.”

Jackson’s phone vibrates on the table. He moves to turn it off and put it in his backpack but pauses when he sees it’s from Jinyoung.

_Can you ask mark if bambam normally starts speaking in a different language when hes drunk or if we should be worried_

_Gyeommies rly worried omg hes so whipped_

Jackson looks up from his phone. “Does BamBam know another language, or—?”

“Oh,” Mark laughs. “Yeah, he’s from Thailand. It’s super normal for him to start speaking Thai randomly. He likes to do it when he doesn’t want people to know what he’s saying.”

Jackson switches to the Korean keyboard on his phone. _mark says its normal, hes thai_

“Sorry,” he offers apologetically, “I don’t usually go on my phone like this, but it’s Jinyoung, and I didn’t want them to be worried or anything.”

“No, it’s alright.” Mark waves a hand. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you learn English if you’ve never been here before?”

“Well, I’m from China, actually. Hong Kong. And I moved to Korea for college, and I took a couple English classes because, y’know, it’s just a useful language to know. Then, I just kept studying, I guess. It’s not perfect, and neither is my Korean, but it’s better than nothing.”

“No, that’s really impressive. I only know a little bit of spoken Thai, stuff that Bam’s taught me. And English, obviously.” Mark grins, widely enough that Jackson can see his slightly pointed teeth. It’s strangely endearing. Jackson watches as he runs a hand through his soft-looking hair, leaving little tufts sticking up randomly. That is also endearing. Maybe it’s just Mark that’s endearing.

After Jackson’s finished his (ridiculously big) waffle and Mark his (more moderately sized) coffee and they’ve paid (after arguing for a good ten minutes over who should get to, Mark finally gave in to Jackson’s insisting that he’d invited, therefore he pays), they head back out into the night. It’s not the deep night anymore, but a telltale hint of paleness at the horizon to their left gives Jackson a good idea of how long the night has been.

He invites Mark back to their apartment, and Mark accepts, and Jackson tells himself not to be too giddy about it. He’s not sure it works.

 

For such a lightweight drinker, BamBam isn’t too light. Yugyeom ignores the aching of his biceps as he sets BamBam gently down on top of the toilet seat and searches through the bathroom cabinet for ibuprofen.

Once he digs out the small white bottle, he taps BamBam on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go get you a glass of water. Just … um, stay here, okay?”

BamBam just winks and blows him an air kiss, mumbling something, in Thai, presumably, that sounds like ‘palm raccoon.’

He’s derailed, though, when Youngjae ushers him over and onto the arm of the couch. “Gyeommie! It’s the dessert round, they have to use spinach, durian, and freezer-burned Reese’s ice cream.”

He reckons BamBam can be on his own for a couple minutes, hopping up onto the arm of the couch and just holding his glass of water.

It isn’t until the episode is over, and he hears a small thump coming from the bathroom that he remembers just how helpless BamBam was when he left. Yugyeom jumps up, alarmed, and narrowly avoids splashing the water everywhere before he races back into the bathroom.

He opens the door, and BamBam has filled the bathtub with water. He’s just stepping in, fully clothed, when Yugyeom squeaks out a surprised “What are you doing?”

BamBam just gives a lopsided grin and sits down, stretching his legs out underneath the water. Yugyeom watches air bubbles travel up his loose, button-up shirt as his socks, jeans, shirt, everything get drenched.

It’s only when he’s settled down, limbs moving of their own accord through the water, does he look at Yugyeom.

“Hello,” he giggles, an infectious grin spreading across his face. Yugyeom fights the urge to smile back and repeats his question.

“What am I doin’?” BamBam asks incredulously. “I’m washin’ me and my clothes, bitch.” He scrunches up his nose adorably and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m washin’ me and my clothes.”

Yugyeom thinks he might have fallen in love.

(The feeling only intensifies when he gets BamBam to drink the water and the painkillers and to get out of the bathtub. His clothes, obviously, are soaking wet, and when BamBam ends up wearing Yugyeom’s hoodie and sweatpants and immediately passing out, he curls into the fabric and makes a noise a lot like that of a cat purring. Yugyeom doesn’t know where to put him besides his own bed, and carefully tucks him into the blankets. _Maybe it’s not love_ , Yugyeom thinks, resisting the urge to do something dumb like kiss BamBam on the forehead. _Not yet. But it’s definitely something._ )

 

Later, when Jinyoung, Jaebum, and Youngjae have watched a couple episodes of _Chopped_ , Yugyeom’s in the armchair, having joined them after BamBam went to sleep, and Jinyoung’s falling in and out of sleep with his head somehow having ended up on Jaebum’s shoulder. The door opens, and Mark and Jackson all but fall into the room.

Jaebum, as if by reflex, raises his hand to quiet them, and when Jackson looks at him questioningly he just gestures at Jinyoung pressed against him. Jackson smiles at the sight.

“I didn't think you guys would still be up,” he whispers. Jaebum twists in his seat to look out the window. The sun’s about to start climbing up the horizon. But he can understand why they aren't tired: he doesn't want the night to be over, either. Jaebum just shrugs, halfheartedly so as to not dislodge Jinyoung.

He shifts in his seat. It causes Jinyoung to shift, too, and Jaebum holds his breath as Jinyoung’s eyelashes flutter. But he just breathes in and makes a noise from deep within his chest. He looks so small, curled up against Jaebum like this.

“I should get him to bed,” Jaebum says, like it’s an afterthought. He looks up and there are three pairs of eyes on him. Youngjae’s smiling at the sight of him and Jinyoung, and Jackson’s got a knowing look on his face, and Mark seems a little confused but by the looks of it he’s reading the situation perfectly. Jaebum avoids Mark’s gaze and just turns to Youngjae instead. And then Youngjae nods. Jaebum coughs to clear the awkwardness and cradles Jinyoung’s shoulder as he stands up, then immediately picks him up.

“You guys can sit there,” Jaebum offers to Mark and Jackson, gesturing with his head to where he was sitting, even though it’s unnecessary. “I'm gonna get some sleep, too. Good night. It was nice meeting you, Mark.”

“You, too,” Mark responds lightly.

“Night, hyung!” Youngjae calls.

“Good night, Youngjae. G’night, guys.” And then he’s carrying Jinyoung into their bedroom, held close to his chest. Luckily, he’s already in his pajamas, and all Jaebum has to do is lift up the covers and slip Jinyoung underneath. He’s not sure what prompts him to do it, but he tucks the blankets snugly around Jinyoung, making sure he won’t get cold, even though the sun’s already started rising and it’ll only get warmer.

And then he’s brushing Jinyoung’s hair out of his eyes, and then he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to Jinyoung’s forehead, then he’s straightening up and wondering why he did that, wondering why he thinks it feels right, to be taking care of Jinyoung like this, and, most of all, wondering why he wants to do it again.

Jaebum sighs, running his hand through his hair, and steps back, stripping off his shirt and jeans and replacing them with a grey t-shirt that hangs halfway down his thighs.

He looks again at Jinyoung, face slack in sleep and looking imminently peaceful, and wonders what the feeling in his chest is, where it came from, what it means.

After he washes his face and brushes his teeth and gets into his own bed, he’s laying down facing the wall.

Closing his eyes, he can’t help but notice the subtle pit in his stomach, like something in his world’s not quite right anymore. And closing his eyes doesn’t seem to bring sleep any closer. Jaebum sighs into his pillow. He’s counting sheep, but they all look the same, and he can only see six of them.

_Who even says that works, anyway?_

He opens his eyes. The sky’s getting lighter, he can see a sliver of the sky from where the curtains don’t quite meet in the middle. If he focuses really hard on Jinyoung (which, he finds, isn’t too hard) he can hear slow, steady breathing from the other side of the room.

It’s relaxing him, like nothing else really is at the moment. And as if it’s a subconscious action, Jaebum finds himself shifting over onto his other side, so he’s facing the room at large. So he’s facing Jinyoung. And something in his mind tells him it’s right, and something in his stomach shifts so the discomfort is a mere memory, and he can see Jinyoung clearly.

“Good night, Jinyoung,” he murmurs, even though Jinyoung is far from being awake and can’t hear him. Jaebum presses his face into the pillow and just looks across the room, tracing the image of Jinyoung until his eyelids fall closed.

 

Mark sets an alarm for seven A.M., and he’s startled by the song he set cutting through the silence after realizing he’d dozed off. He quickly turns it off, noticing the warmth beside him. He turns his head, and there’s Jackson, hair falling over his face and mouth slightly open with both hands curled protectively around his own stomach.

It’s Sunday, and his body is screaming at him to close his eyes again, to maybe lay down in a more comfy position and use Jackson as a pillow and forget everything else, but he knows that if he does Delilah Ann will ignore him for the rest of the day. And besides, she’s already been alone for long enough.

Mark loves their cat even more than he loves sleep, so he grudgingly picks himself off the annoyingly inviting couch and stumbles gracelessly to the door to slip on his sandals. At least no one’s there to witness his lack of coordination.

He walks home with the warm early morning breeze ruffling his hair, still in his clothes from the night before.

“Hey,” he calls tentatively into the mostly-empty apartment. “Hey, Delilah Ann. I’m home.”

He makes his way to the fridge and digs out a can of cat food. The sound of the lid being peeled back attracts a flash of gray fur to her spot at Mark’s feet. He giggles at her, crouching down and letting her nuzzle into his face.

She paws at his knees, and he sinks down lower to let her climb into his lap.

“I missed you,” he sings to her, scratching underneath her chin. She just mews loudly at him, tilting her head up, and he grins.

After he settles Delilah Ann down with her food, he goes outside to water his plants. It registers that this is the first day since Jackson’s arrived that he’s not walking by as Mark is outside, but it’s fair enough. They _were_ up until … actually he doesn’t know how late they were up. But he still feels a little bit sleepy, even as he washes his face with the Clean  & Clear morning stuff both he and BamBam swear by.

After he makes sure Delilah Ann is okay, Mark changes out of his old clothes and into a hoodie and some basketball shorts, then locks up after himself as he heads back to Jackson’s place.

The apartment is just as quiet as it was when he left, and Jackson’s just slid down so his whole body is spread out across the length of the couch. Mark takes his shoes off at the door before grabbing a blanket from a random armchair and flinging it over himself and Jackson as he lays in front of Jackson.

(He pretends he’s not affected by the way Jackson’s arm subconsciously winds its way around his waist and pulls him closer, instead choosing to focus on how he can sleep now.)

When Jackson wakes up the first thing he notices is how warm it is. He doesn’t really remember falling asleep anywhere particularly warm, though, and in trying to get his sleep-addled brain to recall last night’s (or this morning’s) events he shifts closer to whatever warmth is nearest.

Which happens to smell like the beach, and like warm laundry, and like oranges. When Jackson’s eyes open, all he can see is red.

Somewhere in all his hazy, half-asleep thoughts, he connects red to Mark and last night and the beach and his eyes fly open and he bolts upright.

Mark frowns (adorably) in his sleep and lets out a barely audible whine.

Jackson gets up from the couch like he’s been burned and lays the blanket he doesn’t remember having last night completely over Mark, then straightens up and heads into the kitchen.

He automatically gravitates towards the coffee maker, gently slapping his own face in an attempt to wake up. It’s already eleven o’clock. None of the others are up yet, Jackson notes, and after setting the coffee pot to brew he walks down the hallway, first peeking into Yugyeom and Youngjae’s room, where BamBam is sleeping in Yugyeom’s bed, and Yugyeom with Youngjae in Youngjae’s. He smiles at the sight of his friends, then quietly closes the door and goes into Jinyoung and Jaebum’s room, where they’re both sleeping peacefully still.

Reassured that everything’s normal, relatively speaking, Jackson walks back into the kitchen, socks softening the sound of his footsteps. He opens the window, because he thinks that the smell of the beach is one of his favorite smells, and they’re close enough to the sea to fill the apartment with it.

He has a sudden craving for sweet potato fries, and makes a mental note to ask Mark if he has any recommendations when he wakes up.

Jackson doesn’t have to wait long, though, because soon enough there’s the sound of the springs on their couch creaking and moments later there’s a sleepy-eyed, messy-haired Mark shuffling across the floor towards Jackson.

“You’re wearing different clothes,” Jackson notes, taking an experimental sip of his coffee. It hasn’t cooled down since he tried it thirty seconds ago.

Mark nods. “Yeah,” he mumbles, and his voice was deep before but when Mark is basically still asleep on his feet Jackson can feel it send shivers up and down his body. “I have an alarm set for seven A.M. to feed Delilah Ann and to water my plants and … and yeah,” he finishes, graciously accepting the mug of coffee Jackson pushes into his hands. “I went home, and decided to change.”

Jackson nods, leaning forward to pluck at the strings of Mark’s hoodie. “I like the hoodie.”

“Mm, thanks.” Mark still hasn’t fully opened his eyes. “Concert, back in 2016 that Bam and I went to. Troye Sivan.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Jackson says, honestly. Mark’s eyes shoot open. He nearly drops his mug.

“What? You’ve never heard of Troye Sivan? He’s amazing, definitely one of my favorite singers. Here,” Mark offers, fumbling for his phone and typing something in, then gesturing for Jackson to come stand near him.

Needless to say, Jackson downloads _Blue Neighbourhood_ on his phone immediately, and it’s blasting into his left ear and into Mark’s right as they walk down the boardwalk later that day, their destination a stand that Mark promises serves the best sweet potato fries in the entire country.

The palm trees are swaying all around them and Mark’s smile is bright and Jackson just feels so _free_. After Troye Sivan, Jackson insists on having Mark listen to some of his favorite songs. (Nearly all of which are by Taeyeon. Mark seems to really like them.)

He feels like he’s falling in love with California. Definitely on his way there, he thinks as he looks over at Mark, whose hair is shining and skin is glowing underneath the late afternoon sun. How could he not, with California bringing him all these wonderful feelings?

 

Seamlessly. Mark and BamBam fit seamlessly into their lives.

It’s almost as if they’ve always been there, because seven is even more cramped in a diner booth but when it’s just enough for three large orders of French fries and Jackson is yet to witness a boring conversation, it’s hard to believe otherwise.

Mark and BamBam’s apartment has a bigger living room, so movie nights tend to happen there. (Somehow, Mark and Jackson nearly always end up sitting next to each other, leading to one falling asleep on the other, but it’s fine. It’s fine, it’s chill, it’s alright. Even when Mark sleeps with his head cradled in Jackson’s lap, or on his shoulder, or on his chest. It’s fine.)

Delilah Ann, although not fond of Jackson, has become used to his presence. At least she doesn’t hiss whenever he’s near Mark anymore. She only likes a couple people, as Mark had explained apologetically when he was putting a bandaid on a scratch on the back of Jackson’s hand.

She likes Youngjae, likes to curl up in the hoods of his hoodies or under his arm. She likes Youngjae and Mark and hisses at everyone else. Jackson can’t even blame her.

(BamBam is probably the one she likes the least, but he always picks her up and plays with her, even though she scratches and squirms. He just laughs it off and continues. Yugyeom obviously thinks it’s adorable, and Jackson has to admit it’s pretty endearing.)

 

It’s one day, when Jackson’s walking along the beach with Jinyoung, that he sighs.

“I think I’m in love with California.”

Jinyoung looks at him then, with an incredulous look on his face that’s only made more dramatic by the setting sun casting its colors onto his skin.

“What?” Jackson asks, narrowing his eyes. Jinyoung has that look on his face, the one that says ‘You’re an idiot but I’m not going to tell you why, but I will drop little hints that no one understands but me until you figure it out after nineteen months of wondering what you did wrong, at which time I will laugh in your face because it was right under your nose the entire time.’ Jackson knows that look all too well, having been on its receiving end an embarrassing amount of times.

“I just think …” Jinyoung pauses, as if trying to think of the most cryptic way to phrase his answer, “that maybe it’s not California you’re in love with.”

Jackson stops walking for a moment, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

Jinyoung just shrugs, infuriatingly. “Whatever you want it to mean, I guess.”

And he only laughs when Jackson storms ahead a couple steps, with an “You’re impossible, oh my God, why am I friends with you?”

“Well, just think about it,” Jinyoung proposes. “Think about the things you’re falling in love with about California. Make a list.”

Jackson rolls his eyes and then he brushes it off, changing the topic. “Have you ever heard of Troye Sivan?”

However vague Jinyoung’s advice may have been, Jackson decides to take it. He takes a spare piece of loose-leaf paper lying around and tapes it up to his wall. With his favorite purple glitter pen, he writes _THINGS I LOVE ABOUT CALIFORNIA._

 

  1. _I love the early morning sunshine_



He walks out of the apartment, and into the warm rush of air. All the houses blend together until he reaches the one with ferns and hanging flowers practically spilling out of it.

Mark’s skin is tinged pink and orange with the force of his joy, and his smile is bright and refreshing. There’s the feeling of early morning sunshine washing over Jackson, even though the day is overcast.

He props his elbows up on the white brick wall to talk to Mark, as always, as Mark moves gracefully around with his watering can.

And then Mark finishes, and invites him in for a cup of tea, as always. And maybe it’s the sheen curtains hanging over the windows that cast beautiful colors over Mark, maybe it’s something else, but he looks like the sunrise.

And then Jackson continues on his walk, unable to shake the lingering happiness from his mind.

 

  1. _I love the late nights and how it’s still warm_



Mark is walking alongside him, and Jackson’s just wearing a thin t-shirt and he’s kind of shivering and kind of not.

The yellow streetlights cast Mark’s face into a gorgeous sort of shadow, and his laugh is loud and carefree when he hears Jackson finish his story.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “I can’t believe you actually said that.”

Jackson just grins, and he’s about to reply with something witty and charming, obviously, but just then a breeze cuts through the air and through Jackson’s t-shirt and he shivers.

“Oh, Jackson, you’re not wearing a jacket!” Mark says, and he sounds surprised. “I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard about California, but even L.A. gets cold at two in the morning.” And then Mark’s slipping off his jacket, and Jackson’s protesting, but Mark insists because he has two sweaters and Jackson’s kind of really happy because the jacket is warm and it smells like the beach and the sleeves hang off his hands a little bit so he can flap them around while telling his stories.

And the cold can’t reach him anywhere anymore, not with Mark’s laugh and Mark’s presence surrounding him.

 

  1. _I love how it always smells like the beach, no matter how far away you are_



They’re just lying on Jackson’s bed, watching the opening credits of _Legally Blonde._

“It’s the best movie you’ll ever see,” Mark promises, eyes wide and earnest, and Jackson finds himself nodding along even though his inner self is scoffing, because hello? _Ponyo_?

And when Elle is teaching the girl at the salon the bend and snap, Mark moves a little bit and Jackson finds himself very aware of their proximity.

He closes his eyes, just for a second, because all of a sudden everything smells like salt and sand and water and like something fresh.

 _This,_ he thinks, _this is why I’m in love with California._

There’s something just so nice about the place having that smell, having it everywhere so you can never forget it.

 

  1. _I love how free I feel in California_
  2. _I love how beautiful everything is_
  3. _I love how there are plants everywhere, green and vibrant and lightening everything up_
  4. _I love that I’ve found a home, a family in California_



 

“Now,” Jinyoung says. He’s sitting on the end of Jackson’s bed with Jackson’s list in hand. “Now, read these out loud to me.”

Jackson does. And then looks up expectantly.

Jinyoung just rolls his eyes, and falls back onto the comforter dramatically. “Must I spell out everything for you?”

Jackson pouts, then nods.

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. These things you’ve written, do they all involve a particular thing?” And as if he senses that Jackson can’t make sense of it, he adds, “What memories were you recalling as you wrote the list? Is there a recurring factor in each of those memories?”

He sits up and leaves, smirking over his shoulder. Jackson just glares.

And then Jackson thinks, he thinks and he thinks and he goes through the list three times before he wonders if Mark has eaten yet today, and if he’d want to go out for lunch to try that new place BamBam, Youngjae, and Yugyeom had found last week.

 _Oh,_ he thinks. _Mark. Mark’s always there._

The early morning sunshine isn’t even there every day. But even when it’s gray out, or raining, or anything, he finds it.

And it’s definitely not still warm enough at night to wear only one layer. But he’s warmed from the inside out.

It doesn’t smell like the beach in Jackson’s bedroom right now. It did two nights ago, when he invited Mark over to play him the _actual_ best movie he’ll ever see. ( _Legally Blonde_ was good, sure, but still. _Ponyo._ ) Mark was in his Cornell sweatpants, the red ones that Jackson says compliment his hair, and he looked so relaxed sitting there next to Jackson, tranquility rolling off him in waves.

Jackson thinks, fleetingly, that perhaps it’s not California he’s fallen in love with at all, that perhaps it’s Mark, and then he dispels the thought because the two were never that different in the first place.

 

The sky in California is a blue you wouldn’t believe.

The ocean, too. It’s ridiculously pretty.

Then again, most things in California are.

Jackson watches as Mark lowers his camera again, and he’s entranced when Mark’s fingers brush against his own as he hands Jackson the film that comes out.

“Keep it,” Mark says, answering Jackson’s questioning look. “Put it on your wall. If you want to.”

 _I’d love to,_ Jackson thinks. Instead he just beams, wide and bright, and fishes out a sharpie so he can write _California <3 Mark _. He slips the polaroid carefully into the front pocket of his backpack, lying a couple of feet away in the sand.

It’s a pretty picture, with the sun’s dying light being cast all over the beach and the water and the mountains in the distance and the silhouette of the pier outlined in near-black.

 _Almost as pretty as Mark,_ Jackson catches himself thinking.

And it is, but Mark’s lips are pink in the light and his laugh is clear and his eyes are bright so Jackson thinks he’s the prettiest.

Jackson’s not sure what prompts him to move closer to Mark. It’s probably just his gravitational pull—there’s only so much Jackson can do to withstand that. But he finds himself reaching for the camera in Marks hands and zipping open his backpack so he can place it in there. And then he finds himself reaching for Mark’s hands, and finds Mark’s hands in his own, finds Mark’s hands pulling him in closer.

Jackson looks at Mark, and Mark looks at Jackson, and Jackson wonders how the spirit of an entire city can be encompassed in one boy, but then he stops wondering, and stops thinking about anything except how pretty Mark is and how much he feels for Mark and maybe how much he wants Mark to kiss him.

And suddenly they’re dancing, through the silence, to the beat of the crashing waves, to the beat of Jackson’s heart.

It’s not really dancing. Just kind of swaying. Together. Eyes locked. Jackson’s not sure why Mark isn’t looking away, and Jackson’s not sure why _he’s_ not looking away but all of a sudden the moment and all of his love and Mark’s gravitational pull are pushing them together and Jackson’s not really one to fight against a force of nature.

He lets himself be tugged into Mark’s body, lets his jaw be cupped and his heart be filled up with all sorts of warmth imaginable. He lets himself be kissed completely breathless.

He thinks that they must make quite the visual, their figures intertwined, toes in the sand, on top of the sunset’s backdrop, but then Mark is breathing him in and he’s not really thinking anything anymore.

Jackson’s hands find Mark’s waist and pull them closer together, and Mark is kind of everything he’s ever needed. When they part, he can hear Mark’s breathing. It’s loud, and he supposes his is too.

He opens his mouth, trying to find words, and Mark looks like he’s going through a similar struggle when they lock eyes and reach the same conclusion: they don’t really need words, not right now.

When Mark pulls him back in Jackson feels himself melt.

 _This is it,_ he thinks. _This is why I came here._

Really, he’d known all along he was going to fall in love with California.

He’d just never thought California could love him back.

**Author's Note:**

> omg hi thank u so much for reading ily  
> hmu on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lucyepiccrash) or my [tumblr](http://lucyepiccrash.tumblr.com/) and give me validation!!! kudos, comments, they both make my day
> 
> [playlist:](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2EJG-r4L00IuqpevRJRKpXIhGVdZHYCb)  
> So, Soo Pretty — LANY  
> State of Grace — Taylor Swift  
> Drive — Halsey  
> Made in Hollywood — LANY  
> Sweet Creature — Harry Styles  
> Starlight — Taylor Swift  
> Why — TAEYEON  
> Favorite Record — Fall Out Boy  
> SIMPLE — SEVENTEEN  
> Ever Since New York — Harry Styles  
> Roman Holiday — Halsey  
> This Must Be My Dream — The 1975  
> Strawberries & Cigarettes — Troye Sivan  
> Ribs — Lorde  
> Starlight — TAEYEON ft. DEAN  
> New York Morning — Elbow  
> Starry Night — MAMAMOO  
> Monday Blues — EXO-CBX  
> LA Devotee — Panic! At The Disco  
> Hearts Don’t Break Around Here — Ed Sheeran
> 
> omg ok i hope u have a wonderful day/night thanks for existing ily bye


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